Ward Side Story
by LegionN7
Summary: Caxon is the fearless and ruthless leader of the Big Dekuuna Kahunas- how did he manage to rise from a defenseless young elcor into a criminal? Written for the Afterlife February OC Challenge.
1. Seabiscuit

**A/N: Written for the Afterlife February OC Writing Challenge, hosted by Aeternix. I'll be working with a character from the collaborative fic "Galactic Life, and Reapers". This particular character started as a bit of a joke, and ended up a protege to Tiberius. Elcor speech is delivered with preambles.**

Dark, damp, dangerous.

Flickering aerogel displays lit the office with their wan, sickly cast. Ornate plants and abstract paintings adorned the walls, the only nod to aesthetics.

A large, real _baffa _wood desk separates the boss from the rest of the world. Near the bottom of the desk, a scuffed red button, hidden in the scrolling beckons. A stubby digit presses it, and a _robusto _cigar tumbles from a wooden dispenser.

A female ambled from the corner, cutting the cigar, then placed it in the left mouth opening. A hot metal element raises to the edge of the cigar, igniting the paper and the herbs within.

Unhurried puffs start a bright, lively cherry. Harsh, acrid clouds of smoke emerge from his mouth, drifting at a torpid pace towards the high ceiling. Each outward breath livens the glowing cherry, illuminating the female.

Sipping from a vat of _hek'nuun_ liquor, the shadowed and cloaked boss releases a long sigh of contentment. Turning his massive head, he plants a slobbery kiss on the female lumbering back to her post.

_Badassfully: How far I have come._

_None can hope to oppose the might and glory of the Big Dekuuna Kahunas._

_My brocors will roll over you like a raging tsunami._

_With arrogant abandon: Hell yeah._

* * *

The first memories Caxon could dredge up from the dark recesses of his mind were of the lush elcor homeworld.

He remembered little of the world itself, except for it was the only time his body felt at home. He could breathe and speak as intended for an elcor. Dekuuna's atmosphere contained the correct air mix, and the scents! Oh, the beautiful _daffa _blooms, the_ ranse _covering the ground as a soft fur, its fragrance wafting upward with every step.

Dekuuna was love, Dekuuna was life.

The Citadel first left him almost adrift, his organs swirling within his gutsack, a terrible sensation of vertigo and helplessness overtaking him, clawing at his breath and confusing his muscles.

He recalled the unnatural blood rush, his drooping eyeballs jerking much too quick, his speech cracking, his body language corrupted.

Caxon's massive fingers twitched at the memory, anxiety re-emerging at the prospect of reliving the experience.

The CItadel had become his home. Its unforgiving metal and unyielding alloys helped forge him, transforming a scared _elcree _into a hard, salty gangster.

Removing his idle mind from reverie, he turned towards an immediate, pressing matter. One that had been an issue for several days.

"With concern: have we utterly crushed the _mrzyn _yet?"

The '_mrzyn_' in question were an uppity group of turian youth who had begun to encroach on their territory.

"Regretful and flirty: They have not yet been crushed under your heel."

"With rage: Dispatch two heavies. Remove their runners and send them ... into the protein vats. They will sleep with the Fishdog Food Factory waste."

"Giddy and flirty: Jaznol and Griyt will pound their bareface fringes into the pavement. Then you can pound me."

Huffing into his cigar, agitated at the slowness of removing the issue, Caxon tapped the orders into his log.

_Annoyed: The Kahunas should not be taking this long to protect our turf._

"Menacing: When the _qyds _are destroyed, I will lead a team to rough up some shops to fill our coffers."

Contented for the moment, Caxon returned to the Genitelcor video he had been watching.

The femcor in the video serviced three males, twitches and mouth flaps showing how into the act she fell.

"Appreciative: Why don't you do that?"

"Flirtatious: You don't pay enough."

"Determined: Then I will take the team out now and see about changing that."

Caxon and three of his henchmen wandered through the row of storefronts, gazing at the gaudy, glowing signs. Soft lights put shoppers at ease, and neutral smells filtered through the air vents. They needed a front just closing, a shopkeeper just leaving.

Selecting a shop, the elcors would surround an owner and demand their money, looming above most of the squishy races.

Most would rather hand over the chump change in their pockets than incur the Kahuna's anger, and they had very few troubles with C-Sec that way.

Petty theft stayed low on their priorities.

Today's target: a knife and jewelry store, tucked along the line of boutiques, sweet stores, and clothing outlets.

A well-dressed human walked out, groomed facial hair and a tuxedo. The elcors moved to surround him, hearts thudding at the prospect of acquiring high-denomination credits.

Caxon spoke up, ready to shake him down.

"Badassfully: You! Human fecal deposit! With naked menace: We are going to carve out your spleen and drink from it. Smugly: You cannot escape the wrath of the Big Dekuuna Kahunas."

This man, instead of freezing and throwing money, just grabbed onto Caxon's _dembvot_ and ... mounted him as a beast of burden!

Groaning in surprise, he reared up on his hind legs, then crashed forward and kicked, attempting to throw the human.

That proved fruitless.

Allowing himself to fall sideways, Caxon hoped to pin the annoyance long enough for his associates to pound him and take his money.

He signalled for converging, but their quarry adjusted his standing on Caxon, avoiding being crushed by the fall or pinned by the onrushing elcor.

He hopped off and drew a large pistol, sleek with fresh gun oil and with a fresh ammunition block in the load well, hands steady and extended, eyes sharp and focused on sight picture.

The boss righted himself, but sparks of pain filled his vision as the heavy polymer and metal gun crashed into his skull. A sudden strike against a nerve cluster in his right foreleg dropped him.

Caxon submitted, humiliated in front of his gang, numb, and driven to the ground by a mere human.

"Resigned: I submit. I offer _wenskut._" The metallic, cold, and dirty taste of the flooring couldn't compare to the shame he felt.

"Very well, Seabiscuit. If you'd like to stay a free elcor, get up and lets have a chat."

"Confused: My name is Caxon, leader of the mighty Big Dekuuna Kahunas."

The man shook his head, pistol no longer pointed at Caxon, but not safed and collapsed either.

"You are Seabiscuit, I rode you like a racehorse. As for your friends here …" The man scanned each one, narrowed eyes promising danger, but ridiculously small mouth-slash quirked in mischief.

"You all may go now."

At Caxon's nod, the three elcor ambled off back to their base.

"Bye, Flag! Bye, Black Beauty! Bye, Budweiser!"

_Dumbfounded: This human is very strange indeed._

"Now, as for our arrangement. I will let you go, provided two things: You tell me your _dryx,_ then you sweep my store and polish my counters. That includes ten meters around the outside."

"Shocked: You know of elcor customs?" Caxon had never encountered an alien who knew of the _dryx, _much less had any interest in his.

The salesman stroked his hideous beard and gazed at Caxon. "I've just got a feeling that you might prove useful. And I need to know if that is true. So begin while you work."

Caxon plodded into the store, glancing at the many exotic blades hanging up, sorted in displays, or on service racks.

Guns, ammunition blocks, mod boxes stayed in a locked transparisteel case near the register. Jewelry hung on small metal racks, or displayed in soft velvet boxes. In the corner, a magazine rack of all Fornax subsidiaries stood innocuous.

Selecting a cornhusk broom, Caxon began to brush the off-blue floor, the dust of a hundred boots compiling.

"Respectfully: The _dryx _of Caxon, elcor of Dekuuna, is as follows …. "

**Post Scriptum: How did Caxon rise to his position? How did he arrive from Dekuuna, and enter a life of petty crime? FInd out in the next installment!**

**Glossary of Low Deku'a words:**

**Baffa: a strong aromatic tree. Its wood is very difficult to cut, and is prized as a luxury material.**

**Hek'nuun: A deeply nitrogenated liquor, a blend of several elcor whiskies with a fruit blend that delays metabolization of the alcohol, prolonging the effect.**

**Ranse: Ground-covering plant, grows in fuzzy hairlike tufts.**

**Elcree: Young elcor**

**Mrzyn: Term of derision regarding fortitude (coward, yellowbelly, lily-liver)**

**Qyd: Scatological term of derision**

**Dembvot: Garment draped over the back of an elcor.**

**Wenskut: An unconditional elcor surrender. Allows the victor to decide the fate of the surrendering elcor.**

**Dryx: An elcor's life story, generally reserved for close friends, lovers, public office employers, and law enforcement. When recited, it is very detailed, and complete truth. Any elcor found to lie during a **_**dryx **_**is expunged from elcor society.**


	2. Dryx

**Wardside Story 2: Dryx**

"Declarative: I was born to Traevel and Fyx of Dekuuna in the year 2080. Traevel, my male parent, constructed _baffa _wood luxuries. Fyx, my female parent, worked at a packaging factory for an agricultural co-op.

"For my younger years, we resided on the homeworld, near the great northern forests.

"With palpable nostalgia: My fondest memories are of sampling the air during the harvest season, the thick aroma of ripe fruits and tree nuts wafting through the green thickets, rolling carefree amongst the roots and _ranse_ ."

Caxon's eyes defocused, his sweeping slowed.

_Wistfully: How long it has been since I have been so carefree. _

"Declarative: While an _elcree_, I carried the burden of chores and errands, as my parents were advanced in age and working full time. When I grew older, I joined a _Dek'gra'sik _chapter, and learned the craft of wilderness survival, leadership, and strategy."

Tiberius raised an eyebrow at that.

"Your version of Scouting teaches strategy? I didn't think elcor culture valued paramilitary knowledge that much."

"Annoyed: Do not interrupt. The _Dek'gra'sik _teaches _elcree _to expand their minds, and to have a larger knowledge base for life in the galaxy.

"Declarative: Traevel developed a rare bone disease, caused by an accident with his carving tools and an ensuing infection. Our _phtagn _recommended relocation to a low-gravity world so that it could not progress.

"My parents bickered for nights about where would be best. Fyx wanted to move to the Citadel, and Traevel wanted to move further into asari space.

"Wryly: Traevel eventually compromised and they chose the Citadel."

Once more, the vivid memories of sudden adjustment to the new environment flooded Caxon, digits trembling on the broomhandle.

"With painful recollection: When we arrived, the housing we had been sold turned out to be ... less than expected."

_Acerbic: Understatement of the millenium._

He recalled that when the small family unit found the address provided, they were greeted by a domicile that a vorcha would refuse.

Rusted appliances that produced minimal water flow, crumbling building materials stained the sick green of toxic mold.

Threadbare _fumzei _with overburdened springs brokered no rest. The entire unit's space couldn't support a starving artist comfortably, let alone three elcor.

Above them, a salarian musical performer wasted away on drugs and cheap thrills, seeking comfort from his destitution in chemicals and depravity. He would die within a year, hypospray pressed to his neck and a cigarette lodged in his cracked, discolored mouth.

Behind, a single batarian mother struggled to raise five rowdy children. In exchange for small pittances of money for food and clothes, she would sell her body to a local loan shark. Her children all ended up disappearing over several months' time, culminating with the beleaguered batarian stepped off a raised platform into hover traffic.

Across the small boulevard, an old, frail asari matriarch sat by her window all day, waiting for her mate to return from a forgotten skirmish on a forgotten world.

Petty gangs ruled the streets, fighting openly over small areas of turf, stabbing and shooting each other over slurs and gestures.

All the pain of those two years danced in the fore of the elcor's mind.

The human's eyes weren't shocked, nor did he seem to recoil much in revulsion.

Upon further reflection, Caxon considered that the human's clientele might hail from similar areas, seeking a defense or equalizer.

"Melancholy: Traevel sold sculptures and furniture on commission, and Fyx became employed at a petrochemical plant. For one year, they saved enough to secure a lease in a better residential area, sacrificing their own comforts for a few extra credits in savings. "

Caxon remembered grumbling about eating human baloney and farm-raised _quut _every week, not fully understanding the reason.

"Somberly: When we left to move into our new apartment, a drunken krogan loan shark confronted us, mistaking Traevel for a customer. The krogan could not be dissuaded, and used a shotgun to blow out each of his knees while Fyx and I were forced to watch."

The roar of the shotgun, a herald of Death's Angel couldn't compare to the anguished honks of his maternal parent as she was restrained by krogsn enforcers. Spatter of blood, flesh, bone had landed on Caxon's _dembvot_, staining it with the essence of Traevel.

"Bitterly: When Traevel still would not pay, the krogan smashed his mouthflap with the shotgun. The shark slipped into a bloodrage then began bayonetting him until he died. The Keepers took the body away before we could finish even a brief _emtrush."_

Caxon knew his delivery seemed quick, detached. But dwelling on that brutal, hellish hour did not appeal to him.

He watched the human's eyes, noticing some shock and ... pity?

Caxon felt a passing desire to learn to read the body language and expressions of more races.

"Wearily: We settled in as best we could to the new apartment, but without the extra income from Traevel's _baffa _woodwork, Fyx took on a second job as a stagehand for an arts theater."

He paused briefly.

"With abashment: I, too found employment at an asari steakhouse. I was required to wear ... a bowtie."

Tiberius grinned and adjusted his own bowtie. "I'm sure you drove some sweet blues wild with that."

"Annoyed: Do not interrupt again. Regretful reflection: Fyx and I ... our relationship became strained. She rarely had time for me, and when she did, we argued terribly. To protest, I would bring home maidens and embrace eternity in the main room."

His hide shivered a bit, remembering some of the more spicy escapades. They _always _made him leave the bowtie on.

"Depressed: One say, she didn't return home. I received a call at work from her factory job that she had fallen into a vat of molten plastics, that they were sorry, and that a datary had been written as the benefit "

Caxon finished with the broom, replacing it in the corner. He accepted the polish rag and started on the display cases.

"Wryly: I took the credits, dined well and got drunk. The C-sec citation mentioned a fight with a krogan, but I don't remember much past propositioning someone."

The human's eyes tightened a bit at that. He himself might have encountered issues like that recently.

"Declarative: I was evicted within a month and took to the streets, credits stored in my _dembvot_. I then started the Big Dekuuna Kahunas, where I recently swore _wenskut _to you. And thus ends the _dryx _of Caxon."

The elcor hurried with his polishing, hoping to slink away soon.

Tiberius crossed his arms, frowning. "A bit of a hasty end there, Seabiscuit. I doubt it was that easy to set up."

"Hastily: I will give you that information. But if I do not return soon, the Kahunas will search for me."

Tiberius waved him off, closing shop when Caxon ambled away, back to his headquarters.

* * *

Caxon once more puffed on a cigar behind his enormous _baffa _desk. He contemplated his life and rise to the position of gang leader.

_Contemplative: How indeed did I meet with such success?_

He dismissed his femcor sycophant, unhurried breaths sending clouds of smoke searching for the ceiling above, only to dissipate into the venting system.

_Reflective: How much like our lives. We burn, we serve a purpose, we are exhaled, the cosmos absorbing our essence._

Tomorrow would be most interesting.

**Glossary of Low Deku'a Terms:**

**Dryx: An elcor's life story, generally reserved for close friends, lovers, public office employers, and law enforcement. When recited, it is very detailed, and complete truth. Any elcor found to lie during a **_**dryx **_**is expunged from elcor society.**

**Baffa: A strong aromatic tree. Its wood is very difficult to cut, and is prized as a luxury material.**

**Ranse: Ground-covering plant, grows in fuzzy hairlike tufts.**

**Elcree: A young elcor**

**Dek'gra'sik: Elcor youth organization**

**Phtagn: Elcor medical specialist. **

**Fumzei: Sleep hammock(sl**

**Quut: Large, slow, fowl raised for food on Dekuuna. Considered a staple food.**

**Emtrush: Elcor death ritual**

**Wenskut: An unconditional elcor surrender. Allows the victor to decide the fate of the surrendering elcor.**


	3. Rise

**Wardside Story 3: Rise**

Caxon read the account of his trusted enforcers, while he conversed with the human they had succeeded in driving the rival gang away.

The darkened room spurred his thinking, incited his mind. The smell of the rich wooden desk, the lingering perfume of his femcor, the sour stale stink of old cigar smoke. The warm orange glow of aerogel monitors, the sweet burn and harsh flavor of the _hek'nuun. _All these were familiar to him, safe.

And now, the _myrzn _were off the radar. Off their turf, out of sight, one leader at the bottom of a Presidium lake and the other pounded into the pavement.

Caxon released a sigh, a large expulsion of air that vibrated his mouthflaps.

_Introspective: What really is the point?_

Did he seek fame? No, famous criminals get caught. Did he seek wealth? Yes, but anything more severe than serial petty theft or gang wars attracts attention of the enforcement sort. Females? He had his pick of several femcors in the gang, but he felt they were more dalliances than goals.

Sipping deeply at the _hek'nuun, _Caxon tried once again to consider his purpose for leading the Kahunas.

_Thoughtfully: Did I ever have motivation aside from the freedom from another's power?_

Pressing the night security button, he lumbered to a recessed door panel and activated it. The small room contained an opulent _fumzei, _rich burgundy and royal gold beckoning for him to rest his tired body.

He sank into the fabric, the material stretching with his bulk, contouring to it and securing him.

Thick carpeting accepted his forelimbs, leading him into a deep relaxation.

Only the low hum of Citadel infrastructure machinery occupied his aural nodes, leaving him to remember the start of his rise to the head of his gang. With eyes gazing off into the soft darkness, he slipped into memory.

* * *

They had found him, aimlessly wandering the wards after his eventual eviction. A dark alley, lit by the failing flickers of glowpanels. Grime suited more to Omega streaked the sides of buildings, litter crunched underfoot.

A group of young, well-built mascors surrounded him.

"Brusquely: You! _Elcree! _Wheres your family?" The biggest of them lumbered to within a meter of Caxon, daring him to step away.

Angered, Caxon leaned back on his haunches slightly, forelimbs now with less pressure, ready to swing if needed.

"Irritated: I am no _elcree._ I have no family. With barely masked contempt: move or I will wreck your face and your female parent." Three upstarts meant nothing to Caxon, and the closer quarters meant he could maneuver easier than the three of them.

"With glee: maybe you could be one of us then." The smaller of the three chimed in, an obvious sycophant.

"Tentatively: He appears strong enough." The third added, eager to get a piece of the initiative.

Caxon growled, a low vibration shivering his _dembvot. "_Confidently: Stronger than you."

The leader ambled forward, pausing centimeters away. Caxon stared back with unblinking eyes, the hormones of conflict coursing through his body. He saw the other's hide shivering, and smelt breath reeking of human tobacco and cheap salarian beer.

"Terrifyingly badass: You're going to eat from your rectum when I finish with you, _qyd._"

With no warning, the leader reared up on his hind legs, then crashed downward with his fists. The hammerblows slammed into Caxon, driving breath from his lungs and sending streaks of variegated color into his vision.

Howling in pain, Caxon delivered an uppercut, the loud smack of his own fist against opponent giving him pleasure.

When the gang leader scooted back to escape a follow-up, Caxon lunged forward, sending his bulk into the other elcor.

He lost his temporary advantage, though, when the gang leader pushed back, deflecting Caxon's charge just enough to send a merciless haymaker into his side.

Caxon felt his limbs shaking from the pain and rage, tasted some blood.

He reared back to try a strike from above, colliding in midair with the leader and grappling, both falling to the ground. Their combined bulk scraped the walls, friction burns barely registering amidst jabs and twists.

The gang leader used his hindlimbs to gain leverage and superior positioning, forelimbs locking one of Caxon's into a painful submission hold.

"With deserved arrogance: Do you offer _wenskut?"_

Beaten, bloody, and battered, Caxon had no choice.

"Submissively: I offer _wenskut."_

"Pompous: Mark him in, my _elcree_."

The other two elcor grabbed jagged bits of metal and approached the prone and defeated Caxon. Honking in obvious delight, they carved a symbol into his belly hide.

Each violating caress of the shanks had etched into his mind, vivid and terrible. The searing kisses took an eternity, drained what little energy remained.

"Commanding: You are one of us now, the Zakera Bigs. You will follow."

Most of his early days had become a blur, filled with the monotony of maintaining a corner of turf, muling contraband, walking as extra muscle. The boss of the Zakera Bigs had a reputation for paranoia, he only spoke with his most trusted aides and seldom left his office.

Caxon paired with the elcor associate who had 'recruited' him numerous times. Jek never did lose his arrogance, or ambition, but held no grudge against Caxon.

"Bored: Caxon, suit up. We have to go to the Presidium for a business arrangement."

Groaning in frustration, Caxon extinguished his cigar and unmounted the femcor he'd smooth talked to his billet.

"With yearning: I'm sure we will start again when you get back, _yitzno."_

"Unsatisfied: Whatever. I've done salarians with a better repertoire than you." He shooed the femcor, then replaced his _dembvot _and turned towards the associate.

"Gratefully: Thank you for the save. Much more of that and I would have had to be the one faking."

"Disgusted: Spare the intimate details. We have to secure a contract with a turian on the Presidium. He supplies the _hek'nuun _to Kithoi Ward and is considering cutting us in. I've coordinated with him before."

"Eagerly: _Hek'nuun _is always a moneymaker." Caxon imagined the amount that could be had if he could ...

"Warningly: Don't screw the boss. Or the turian. It won't end well." Jek exhibited all the signs of sincerity.

The trip there passed uneventful, though a static charge of tension filled both elcor. They exited the transport and ambled along the gardens, taking a seat and waiting for the turian contact.

"Inquisitive: What is this turian's name anyhow?" Caxon figured having even a little bit of information might be useful.

Jek grumbled, shifting in place. "Bellos. Distills _hek'nuun _legitimately then sells it on the streets."

Caxon nodded, eyes drinking in the sights. Gentle water features provided a simple backdrop over the massive water reservoirs. Throngs of people milled about; turian, salarian, asari, volus, hanar, batarian; the occasional human or quarian.

Vibrant hues of color among the gardens provided an endless amount of variety and beauty, leaves and blades manicured and inviting.

He heard Jek greet the turian,and turned to face him. A tall, beige turian with blue markings stood cross-armed with three asari close behind.

"Whats this, Jek? Standard to let your help gawk when they should be paying attention?"

Caxon rumbled, guilt burning on his face.

"Neutrally: This is Caxon, new to the Zakera Bigs."

The turian sized him up, fierce eyes seeming to pierce him.

Bellos nodded to one of his asari, who sent a text message over her omnitool.

"We'll start negotiations soon, but for now I'd like to get to know the hired help. So, Jek, let Elyna take you to my penthouse and we'll follow shortly."

The asari escorted Jek to a new-model hovercar just pulling aside, leading him into the cab.

Bellos turned to Caxon. "So. What are you here for? Money? _Hek'nuun? _Don't drink it if you're gonna sell it. Bad for you, because then you'll drink it all up and not want to sell any."

Caxon felt confused for the moment. Why would the turian care about his own interests?

"Tentatively: Aren't we all out looking for money?"

The turian laughed. "Yes, yes we are. But thats not good enough. Your friend up there ... " Bellos pointed at the skycar hovering above the water, a side panel opening. " ... All he wanted was money. Paid informant for C-Sec. My mules start getting caught, I want to know whos ratting them. So I tell everyone their next shipment is in different locations. Guess where the cops show up? The coordinates I leaked him."

Caxon watched as Jek was forced out of the hovercar, falling several hundred meters before splashing into the deep lake.

"So now I'm wary. Wary of him enough to give him a drink. Wary of you to bring along my best, and wary of your gang enough to cut ties if I have to."

The fact that 'give him a drink' euphemized a watery death, and that as such his other two clauses were probably similar euphemisms hadn't been lost on Caxon.

"Earnestly: Screw that _myrzn _sideways with a keg_. _If he would rat you out, he'd move on to us eventually." Caxon still felt sickened, but couldn't afford to let it show.

"Good. You do have some smarts. So why are we here? What does your boss wantout of me?"

"With conviction: Ten thousand kegs."

_Wary: Committed now. Have to see this through._

The turian's mandibles opened in shock. "Excuse me? Ten _thousand?"_

"Annoyed: Get those auditory organs checked. You heard me."

Bellos shook his head, but Caxon kept going. "Explanatory: Diverting a large anount like that into new territory means where your marks already rely on the _hek'nuun, _it becomes more expensive. In the new territory, it finds new marks. Black market manipulation"

The turian nodded to another asari, who recalled the hovercar. "Lets discuss this more at my penthouse. I think I like you."

"Darkly: So long as I'm not the one standing by the door."

Oh, the boss had been furious when he found out that Jek had been iced, Caxon negotiated a deal for several million credits worth of _hek'nuun, _and that Jek had been informing.

But when the profits rolled in, none could argue his gamble had paid off.

The gang rode the wave of financial success, devoting a warehouse for their product and cold credits. Too much fame, in fact. C-Sec visited their vicinity more often, probing for a mistake so they could move in.

Caxon built a strong following amongst the ranks of the Zakera Bigs, maintaining a core for a possible breakaway in secret. That day finally came when the warehouse came under seizure by the authorities, and several Bigs squealed.

In the dead of the night cycle, Caxon and his core group deactivated security, relieved sentinels, then stole away into the night.

* * *

Returning from his reverie, Caxon readjusted in his _fumzie. _All loose ends had been handled without bloodshed. The turian picked up after transaction records were found off the boss, and the remaining Bigs remained locked up.

No epic gunfight, no major beef within the ranks. Just the quiet creation of the Big Dekuuna Kahunas.

Caxon closed his eyes. Of course, he would tell the human Tiberius the version where he throttled the life from the boss while a floozie femcor watched. That made for a better story.

He slept, dreaming of petty crime and second chances.

**GLOSSARY OF LOW DEKU'A WORDS:**

**Hek'nuun: A deeply nitrogenated liquor, a blend of several elcor whiskies with a fruit blend that delays metabolization of the alcohol, prolonging the effect.**

**Myrzn: Term of derision regarding fortitude (coward, yellowbelly, lily-liver)**

**Fumzei: Sleep hammock**

**Elcree: Young elcor**

**Dembvot: Garment draped over the back of an elcor.**

**Qyd: Scatological term of derision**

**Wenskut: An unconditional elcor surrender. Allows the victor to decide the fate of the surrendering elcor**

**Yitzno: Femcor-to-mascor term of affection (Sweetheart, honey, cutie pie)**


End file.
